God Only Knows
by WildeCard
Summary: She's the fire to her ice and the blood in her veins, and Quinn's not ready to live without her. Not yet. This girl is practically made of music, and she brings passionate, raging fire to Quinn's perfect, glacial world. It's like they were meant to be together and Quinn doesn't even know her name. Quinntana. AU
1. Chapter 1

God only knows

Author's Note: Hi! Sorry the chapter is so short, I'm just trying to get a feel for this, I'll try and upload another chapter soon if people like it. The title is taken from "God only Knows" by Joss Stone. It's an absolutely gorgeous song.

Disclaimer: I don't own Glee, the characters, or anything/one referenced in this story.

It's a Thursday afternoon when Quinn first meets her. Well, not meets exactly. Kurt and Rachel are out being far too theatrical for a 3pm on a Thursday, and faced with an empty apartment Quinn quickly comes to the decision that she'd rather roam the streets taking photographs for her Streets of New York project than listen to the echoing rattle of the pipes in the ancient building. At times like this Quinn likes to hang her camera around her neck, plug her ipod in and get lost in the joint artistic beauty of New York City and the playlist she's comprised specifically for moments like this. Now looking back fondly several months on Quinn will be inclined to see what happens next as fate, but at the time, with it being such a minor irritation and all, she chalks it up to nothing more than bad luck. And what happens is her ipod runs out of power. It sounds like nothing, and Quinn simply pulls out her earphones, winds them around the body of the device and slips it into her bag, but it means that Quinn is no longer lost in the melodic world on shuffle inside her head and fully aware of her surroundings. Its two minutes further down the road when they meet, sort of, and Quinn _feels _her long before she sees or hears her, she feels her in the way that art is attracted to art. And the girl ahead of her leaning against the bus stop with her ipod in drumming her fingers against the frame of the shelter and moving almost imperceptibly to the beat in her ears is _made_ of music. It's like a siren call to Quinn and she can't look away. She doesn't know how long she's been staring before, of their own accord, her hands raise her camera to her eyes and snap a photo of the girl at the bus stop. She only realises what she's doing when the bright flash of the camera startles her out of her stupor. It also seems to draw the attention of her subject as the girl ceases her gentle rhythmic movements and turns to look at her, and odd, curious sort of an expression on her face. She doesn't look angry, but Quinn is so embarrassed that she turns on her heel and runs all the way back to the loft she shares with Kurt and Rachel, bursting though the locked door in a flurry of keys and limbs and flinging herself into a ball on her bed.

Approximately twenty minutes later when she has recovered from the experience and the brilliant red, she's not sure that's due to blushing or exertion, has faded from her cheeks Quinn admits to herself that she might have overacted slightly and pads softly to the fridge for a bottle of water. She's not sure what caused such an extreme reaction in her. Sure she was a little hot tempered in her youth, Rachel and Kurt know that better than anyone, but she's grown up a lot since then and her temperament has mellowed out considerably in that time. Shaking her head to herself Quinn tosses the empty bottle in the recycling bin and grabs her camera on the way to her dark room.

The dark room itself is little more than a cupboard. It only has the one heavy fire door and no windows of any description, leaving the room pitch black until artificially lit. Originally it had been intended for use as a small walk in wardrobe, but neither Kurt nor Rachel could agree on who deserved the space more (Rachel's room is bigger, but Kurt's has more wardrobe space) so When Quinn moved in it was agreed she could convert the space to a dark room. Photography is, after all, her profession. Quinn chuckles to herself at the memory. Her parents had been hoping that by the times she had finished her Law degree at Yale she would have grown out of her desire to go into photography. Quinn has always know this was her calling, it's just in the way she sees things, like she's made of artistic insight. Just like the girl at the bus stop was made of music. Quinn frowns and pegs the final photo up to dry, watching as the image of the girl clarifies on the glossy paper. She sighs to herself, the image isn't going to dry out any faster if she stares at it, and heads out the door, grabbing her sketchpad and pencils as she goes. Obsessing over this girl won't do her any good, heck, she'll probably never see her again. It's only the deprived of a subject, but the thought of never seeing the music girl again leaves Quinn with a tiny, uncomfortably empty feeling deep in her check. She shakes her head again, she gave up this sort of silliness when she stopped being Lucy, and runs the pencil across the thick paper in soft, deliberate strokes.

A.N Okay, thanks for reading. Please read and review with what you think. Is it worth continuing with? I haven't done any writing for a while, and I don't think I've ever written any romantically themed Quinntana, so comments would really be appreciated.


	2. Chapter 2

Sometimes Quinn thinks she's the last person on Earth who truly believes in magic and art. Sure Kurt and Rachel are creative, wonderfully so, and they have more than enough self-belief to do truly exceptional things with their talents, but they just don't see things the way Quinn does. That's why when they come home to find their flatmate covered in various shades of grey and frowning contemplatively at a detailed sketching of New York's crowded streets they whistle appreciatively and offer her a damp cloth. They don't see the heart and soul that Quinn can't seem to capture on paper.

At Rachel's gentle prompting and offer of a cup of her favourite green tea Quinn reluctantly clears her kit to one side and joins her friends at the breakfast bar where Kurt is babbling excitedly about something Quinn honestly doesn't have the energy to listen to. She feels drained and distant, like her inner artist has gone on holiday and her body is just the empty house left behind. She's brought back to reality by a persistent yet gentle nudge from Rachel and a concerned query as to her wellbeing from Kurt. She just nods and smiles, they won't understand, especially not when something has them so elated.

"I'm fine, really." She offers them a semi-convincing smile "Just a little out of sorts I guess". Kurt nods sympathetically and rubs her shoulder as Rachel wraps her arms around the blonde's waist and rests her head on Quinn's other shoulder. Wrapped up in her friends Quinn lets out a little hum of appreciation and moves to squeeze them back. When they finally let go Rachel and Kurt share a decisive look before Rachel turns to Quinn, her eyes bright with an enthusiasm that worries Quinn. Rachel and Kurt are wonderful people, and incredibly supportive friends, but some of their attempts to hep are misguided at best and Quinn never has the heart to turn them down.

"You should come with us!" Rachel announces almost bouncing off her stool in excitement. The other girl raises a questioning eyebrow at her flatmate. Behind her Kurt sighs.

"I told you she was miles away" he whines. Rachel shoots him a sharp look before turning back to the girl in front of her and grasping her hands.

"To the Karaoke Bar. The NYADA people are having a sort of celebration. It might help take your mind of things?"

Quinn smiles gently and shakes her head "I'm okay, but thanks". She doesn't have to turn around to see the put out look on Kurt's face. "I'm not really in the mood for crowds, and I won't know anyone there…" She trails of as Kurt and Rachel exchange another look. Then Kurt puts his arm around her shoulders and rests his baby soft cheek against hers.

"Then we'll introduce you. Come on, for us?" His voice is affectionate and pleading, and the hope in Rachel's big brown eyes is too much for Quinn's will power. Before she knows it she's being ushered into the shower by her flatmates under strict orders to come out less monochrome. She can't help but smile at that.

Forty-five minutes later and Quinn is pacing about in a towel turban and her underwear while Rachel and Kurt rake through her wardrobe with critical eyes. Now Quinn is a good dresser by anyone's standards, but Rachel's new found fashion sense and Kurt's hyper-critical eye mean that she won't leave her room tonight without having been groomed to perfection like the beautiful little doll child her parents always wanted. Sometimes the connection leave Quinn feeling angry and resentful, but then, just as they do now, her friends turn around with the same love and passion in their eyes that she always sees when they look at her that she realises that, really, there's no comparison at all. So when Rachel gently runs a brush through long, blonde hair as Kurt holds different clothing combinations up against Quinn's body she can't help but smile and gently submit to their pampering.

It takes a further hour and a half before Kurt and Rachel deem the three of them in a suitable state to be seen by the public, and a further 15 minutes walk before the trio arrive at the Karaoke Bar the two brunettes have been gushing about for the past few hours. Honestly Quinn doesn't really see the appeal, the building's standard New York exterior gives way to a shiny, artistic sort of décor that is far too modern for her taste. Similarly the mass of well groomed, flamboyant, cocktail drinking art students that greets them would not be Quinn's first choice for company. As much as she loves her flatmates, and she does love them more than anyone she's ever met, sometimes just the two of them are too much for her to cope with all the time, and a roomful of similar personalities leaves the blonde exhausted before she's even fully crossed the threshold. Then they start singing.

They of course refers to quite possibly every single person in the bar excluding Quinn herself, and the sound, although admittedly tuneful, does little to improve the blonde's mood, instead sending her towards the surprisingly vacant bar at top speed. As she leans tiredly on the slightly sticky counter the bar tender shoots her a sympathetic glance.

"I'm not here voluntarily either." He sighs, sliding a brightly coloured cocktail her way before slipping an umbrella with a cherry on the stick into the pink liquid. "On the house" he adds. Quinn doesn't have the energy to argue with him, so she accepts the drink with the same, tired smile the boy behind the bar had offered her and slips back through the roaring crowd to find a table.

By the time she makes it through the crowd Kurt and Rachel are squashed around a table with 8 other equally flamboyant NYADA students. Rachel waves frantically as Quinn approaches and nudges the boy to her left to make room for Quinn with what the blonde considers to be a little too much bodily contact for the friend zone. None the less she accepts the small amount of space offered to her by Rachel and takes a deep swig of her drink. Across the table a cute blonde with an English accent is attempting to convince Kurt to take the stage with him. Quinn has known Kurt for long enough to tell when the brunette is playing hard to get, and even if she hadn't it doesn't take a genius to work out that if Kurt needs coaxing onstage he has an ulterior motive. To her left Rachel giggles at something and drapes herself over the boy on her other side, taking a long swig of his drink. Well that solves one mystery Quinn muses as she alternates between observing one roommates increasingly drunken antics, and the other's coy flirting as the English boy links their hands and drags him towards the stage. With their departure the crowd around the small table spreads out, and with Rachel all but sitting in the boy's lap, Quinn thinks his name is Brody, she finds herself slightly more comfortable as she takes another swig of her cocktail, it's sweet and fruity and swallows easily, as Kurt and the blonde on stage begin a rather sickening rendition of Don't go breaking my heart. Rachel giggles again loudly, burying herself into a grinning Brody's shoulder and the cocky looking redhead across the table flexes his admittedly impressive muscles and winks before running his foot up Quinn's calf. The blonde lets out a frustrated breath, chins the remainder of her drink, and returns to the bar with her glass in hand. By the time she makes it to the bar again the small wooden counter is considerably more packed than it had been half an hour or so ago, and Quinn finds herself eying the reluctant bar tender sympathetically as she slides the empty martini glad onto the sticky wood. The bartender catches her eye and it's her turn to offer him a sympathetic smile this time.

"You and me both" she offers tiredly. He nods in response and fixes her the same drink as before, batting her hand away when she tries to offer him a note.

"I'll have to start charging you eventually" he warns with a grin. Quinn frowns, tilting her head and furrowing her eyebrows curiously. The bartender shrugs and runs a hand through his dark hair. "I know a broken soul when I see one."

Quinn would have questioned him further but he disappeared down the bar to serve a huddle of particularly rowdy patrons, and the shove and bustle of the crowd around her forces her away from the bar before she can call out to him. Cutting her loses the photographer returns to the considerably emptier table with her drink, and turns her attention to the stage once more where a rowdy crowd of NYADA students are being led by a rather intoxicated Kurt and Rachel in a very drunken sounding rendition on Jessie J's Domino. Unfortunately the ginger boy with the muscles has remained at the table, and has positioned himself far too close to Quinn for her comfort. She takes a large gulp of drink, relaxing slightly as the warm buzz of alcohol makes its way through her body, and slides further away from the boy as he moves to put his arm around her shoulders. This, however, doesn't seem to put him off as he winks at her and closes the distance between them once more, laughing when the blonde widens the distance once more.

"You don't need to play hard to get babe" he teases. Quinn shifts uncomfortably and downs her drink.

"I'm not." She replies, trying her best not to snap. These are Rachel and Kurt's friends and classmates, and as annoying as they are Quinn really doesn't want to make things uncomfortable for them. The boy simply laughs again and slides out of the seats.

"Just watch this babe" he shouts over her shoulder as he disappears into the crowd. Quinn is puzzled for a minute, but then the boy's ginger hair and smug grin appear on stage as he grasps the microphone is what Quinn can only describe as a very poor imitation of sensuality.

"This is for the sexy lady I'm taking home tonight" he announces loudly, winking in Quinn's direction as the crowd whoops and hollers to the opening notes of Akon's Sexy Bitch. Romance is officially dead Quinn sighs to herself as she grabs three shots of the tray of a passing barman and downs them one after the other without tasting any. It is only when the redhead on stage hits the chorus, undulating his hips and gesturing wildly in her direction, that the blonde slips out of the main bar to find the restroom.

Two flights of stairs and a cold gust of wind lead Quinn to believe that she may have taken a wrong turning in her quest for the toilets. As does the view of the New York streets that currently greets her. She is about to shut the door when a soft humming breaks through the roar of the wind.

_I may not always love you_

_But as long as there are stars above you_

_You'll never need to doubt it_

_I'll make you so sure about it_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

The voice is soft yet husky, and as the opening verse of Joss Stone's God only knows reaches her ears Quinn feels the rest of the world go quiet around her as her brain focuses in on the flawless voice carried on the wind. Quinn is walking forward before her brain can fully process what she is doing, and it is only the muted bang of the door behind her that breaks the trance she's found herself in. The night is dark and windy, but not so much so that she can't see, and a few minutes frantic searching yields a lone female figure on the rooftop of a significantly less crowded bar across the street.

_If you should ever leave me_

_Though life would still go on believe me_

_The world could show nothing to me_

_So what good would living do me?_

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

The woman's dark hair dances about her like inky flames, and in the dim light of the street lamps Quinn can just about make out the soft curves of a tanned face. The girl's eyes are closed and her hand moves rhythmically in front of her as she sings. She looks oddly familiar, and Quinn furrows her brow in thought before, out of nowhere, the image of the girl at the bus stop imprints itself in her mind's eye once more. It can't be. Life doesn't work like that. And yet as the girl breaks into the third verse of the song and Quinn studies her face in more depth the blonde could swear the owner of the siren song that drew her to the rooftop and the girl at the bus stop whose every fibre screamed music and rhythm are one and same. Then the girl opens her eyes. Deep brown irises lock with hazel, and the blonde finds herself breathless as the air in her lungs is carried away on the wind. The girl across from her looks startled, as through Quinn had intruded on something secret, and Quinn supposes she has really, and although she doesn't stop singing the next line out of her mouth is alarmed and questioning, but still so fluid and perfect that still finds herself fighting for breath.

_God only knows what I'd be without you_

The door behind her crashes open, and Quinn turns around with a start as Rachel screams her name drunkenly into the cold night air, her arms wrapping around Quinn's shoulders as Kurt stumbles behind dragging the blonde boy from earlier behind him and grinning broadly.

"QUINNNNN!" Rachel screams again, burying her head into the blonde's collar bone and slumping forward so that most of her body weight is leaning on her roomate's petite frame. Kurt, who is marginally more sober at this point, moves in closer and offers a translation.

"We've been looking for you. Brody is throwing up in the bathroom so we're heading home. Adam is coming with us." Kurt turns to grin at the blonde who waves amicably at Quinn with his free hand. "What are you doing up here?" Quinn shrugs and glances back at the rooftop across the street. It's empty, of course it is, she should have known better than to expect anything else. "That boy with the ginger hair was annoying me so I just came up for some air." It's not a total lie, and somehow Quinn just doesn't feel right telling them about the girl on the rooftop. The moment seemed too precious, too intimate, to share. Kurt nods sympathetically, wrapping his free arm around her and Rachel and steering them towards the door gently but firmly, his other hand dragging a willing Adam along behind them. "I know who you mean. Ryan can be a bit full on." Quinn makes a breathy noise of agreement, but doesn't offer any form of verbal response, and Rachel murmurs happily into her neck as Kurt continues to usher them out of the bar.

It is only when Rachel is sprawled out unconscious across the sofa, and Kurt's bed is squeaking frantically in the next room that Quinn's thoughts stray from the singer on the rooftop long enough for her to remember the photos developing in her dark room. She walks to the room with a forced calmness that is as much an attempt not to wake Rachel as it is to prove to herself she's not captivated by this girl. She shuts the door quietly behind her, and flicks through the hanging photographs on New York streets until she reaches the one she's after. Her hands are shaking as she unpegs it from the line, and Quinn mentally berates herself. It's just a girl. Just a photograph. She's being ridiculous and she knows it. And yet as she turns the photograph around to reveal the most beautiful woman Quinn has ever laid eyes on from the third time that day the blonde feels her heart pound in her chest and her lungs struggle for breath once more. The girl's stunning rendition of God only knows echoes in Quinn's head and the photographer can't help but think that she was right; this girl _is _made of music.


End file.
